This is not a notable photograph by any artistic standards. But it does represent one of the few times in my life that I've been absolutely terror-stricken. After a day of railfanning in the Metro Detroit area, my friends and I had returned to my hometown of Ann Arbor for dinner. But before we ate, we decided that we would try for one last shot of the final westbound Amtrak train of the day. We set up along the Huron River, roughly two miles from the Amtrak station. It wasn't long before we heard a crackling transmission on the radio. "Amtrak 355, out of Ann Arbor." And at about the same time, we all noticed a man start to walk across the bridge. No amount of shouting or banging tripods against monopods could get his attention. Could he not hear over the roar of the wind or the noise of the M-14 expressway? Or did he have a walkman or iPod playing? Either way, our efforts to get his attention did no good. And suddenly, silently, Train 355 shot into view. By some great fortune, the trespasser was not standing on the tracks, but along side them. The suction of the train knocked him flat on the ground, and it took some time before he rose back up to his knees. Even after the train had passed from earshot, he remained standing on that bridge. He never saw it coming.